


Somebody Else

by necrofancy



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adult Losers Club (IT), Angst, Ben Hanscom is a Good Friend, Comfort, Derry (Stephen King) is Terrible, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Flashbacks, Gay Richie Tozier, M/M, Nostalgia, Pining, Reddie, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Smut, So much angst, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Yearning, handjob, panics in gay, some dirty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 10:55:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21073742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necrofancy/pseuds/necrofancy
Summary: The only thing Richie hates more than New York City is nostalgia, but when the past catches up to him, he's forced to look it in the eye.





	Somebody Else

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by The 1975's "Somebody Else". Also my first fic in AGES. I've missed you guys ;_;

** _So I heard you found somebody else_ **

** _And at first I thought it was a lie_ **

** _I took all my things that make sounds_ **

** _The rest I can do without_ **

** _I don't want your body_ **

** _But I hate to think about you with somebody else_ **

** _Our love has gone cold_ **

** _You're intertwining your soul with somebody else_ **

  
  


New York City. The only thing filthier than the wretched city itself was the cab Richie currently occupied. He grimaced as he lifted his foot, the damp plastic floor mat sticking to the bottom of his shoe for a disturbing length of time before flopping back down with an audible _ squelch _ . 

_ Alright - barf, blood, or piss? _ Richie chuckled to himself as he mused on which would be the “good” answer. _ Beep, beep, Richie. _

_ Beep beep. _

_ BEEEEEEEEEEEEEP. _

Richie jolted out of his thoughts, literally, as his head almost smashed into the passenger’s seat in front of him as the driver slammed on the breaks, causing the cab to come to a screeching halt with a barrage of horns from the neighboring cars.

_ “Jesus H. Christ, man! _ I’d like to make it one piece, _ thank _ you. Jackass,” Richie muttered through clenched teeth. The driver made no effort to acknowledge him, although he hadn’t really expected him to. _ Okay, next time, my agent’s hiring a driver. I don’t give a shit what it costs. If Don Quixote here doesn’t fucking kill me first. _ There was another barrage of blaring horns as the cab swerved around a corner. Richie clamped his hand around the door handle for support, but immediately pulled it away as he felt the unmistakable stickiness of a fresh wad of chewed gum squish against his fingers. He suddenly found himself desperately wishing he carried around a bottle of hand sanitizer. If only he knew someone that walked around with a mobile fucking pharmacy. _ Fucking New York City. _  


“Hey,” the cab driver spoke up in a garish Jersey accent. “Ain’t you that funny guy? The one on TV?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’d be me,” Richie said, barely masking the annoyance in his voice.

“Whadda they call you? Pottymouth? Shithead?”

“...Trashmouth.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s it. ‘Trashmouth.’ Right.”

“Right…” Richie echoed, tipping his head back to lean limply against the headrest.   


The dire cab ride would’ve been tolerable if the show had been anything other than abysmal. Sharing a timeslot with the latest Comedy Central cast-off across the street coupled with low ticket sales meant the perilous trek was hardly worth the price of admission. This was the last leg of the tour and, up until this point, it had been a fairly lucrative run. However, with the budding age of social media and punchlines being tweeted to the masses the moment they were delivered, it meant it was more and more difficult to come up with a stream of new material. 

So for a night as bleak as this one was turning out to be, there was only one thing that could offer some respite: booze. Lots of booze. Sure, it might be more of a band-aid on a bullet hole, but, hey. When in Rome, right? NYC was practically built on functioning alcoholics. Well, that and corruption, and perhaps a _ dash _ of international slave trade commerce. _ Beep, beep, Richie. _

  
  


With a sigh, Richie pulled his phone from his pocket, opening a search tab.

“Er’right,” he began. He spoke aloud under his breath as he typed “Best...bars…to-” the intended sentence ending in _ “to get a cheap drink” _ , although the autofill read _ “to get laid” _. Richie cocked an eyebrow. Drinks would greatly improve the mood, but come to think of it, a blowjob couldn’t hurt either. 

\-----

_ “I told you I was moving!” _

_ “Yeah, but to fucking New York City?” _

_ “What? Afraid you’ll miss me all of a sudden? Wasn’t it _ you _ that said I’m so easily ‘replaceable?’ Besides, You’re hot-footing it to LA the second you get the chance. You’re fucking dying to get out of here, admit it. Admit it, Richie.” _

\-----

A bizarre ping of...something hit him in his core. _ What the fuck? _ It was something like...guilt? No, not guilt. _ Longing _. 

Riche chewed at his lip, his brows tightly knit together in a mix of confusion and frustration. Where the fuck was this coming from all of a sudden? Wherever that was, it needed to get dragged right back by the short and curlies. 

_ “Fuck,” _ Richie hissed, a little too loudly, and an older woman walking by with a toy poodle glared at him over her shoulder. He offered an awkwardly apologetic wave as she passed. “Fuck,” he said again, this time barely a whisper, with growing irritation. _ Okay. Focus. Drinks. Drinks will help. Alcohol always helps. Just drown whatever the fuck is swimming in your head. _

Richie set off in the general direction of the closest location that didn’t have “food poisoning” tagged in the reviews, still cursing under his breath as he stuffed his fists into his pockets. A light, dusting rain had started to fall, coating his glasses in dense beads of water. Becoming increasingly annoyed by, well, literally everything at this point, Richie tugged his glasses off, rubbing his damp t-shirt against the lens. He’d toyed with the idea of getting contacts, hell, even Lasik, but then he remembered the feedback he’d gotten when the idea was brought up before.

_ “No way, man. Your eyes are too close together. You’d look like someone’s weird uncle.” _

_ “Jesus, what are friends for? Douchebag.” _

_ “You’ve had worse.” _

_ “Yeah, and by far (?) better.” _

_ “Bitch.” _

\-----

By the time he reached the bar, his head was swimming with a convoluted mixture of nostalgia and anxiety. His hair, dampened by the rain, clung to his forehead as he squinted at the map on his phone. He was only about a block and a half away from the bar now, and at this point he didn’t care what was handed to him; he’d gladly drink it. Glancing down at the map, he stepped off the curb - right into an ankle deep puddle of water.

“Oh, son of a _ taint _ !” he half-yelled, shaking off the excess water, although a substantial amount had already soaked through to his socks. “Motherfuck-” Richie let out an audible groan. For a moment, he considered just trudging it back to his shitty hotel, picking up a six-pack of shitty beer, and passing out in a drunken stupor. _ Yeah, but you’d have to muddle through another cab ride. You really wanna risk that, Rich? _

“Fuck it.” 

The neon light reading _ The Basement _ gave off a glowing red aura through his rain-spattered lens as a perfunctory relief washed over him, almost as palpable as the rain itself. Stepping into the establishment, Richie was immediately hit with the realization that he was probably the oldest person in the place, something he was still trying to wrap his head around. Still, it was dry, and there was no wait at the bar.

“What can I get you?” the man behind the bar asked. It took everything in Richie’s power not to immediately chuckle at the man; he looked like his 21+ ID was hot off the presses and probably spent _ months _cultivating that handlebar mustache. For a moment, Richie considered asking for a Coors Light, just to see if the vein in the bartender’s neck would visibly pulsate. Alas, he swallowed down the thought and asked for whatever IPA was on tap. 

Tapping his fingers idly on the heavily water-ringed countertop, he eyed the fellow patrons, most of which were either glued to their phones or to the hockey game on overhead TV. Some electro-pop-y song was playing over the speakers, largely - and mercifully - muffled by the sound of the now solid downpour and chaos of the street outside.

\-----

_ “Hey, buddy! I didn’t think you’d show up!” _

_ “Yeah, I figured I could pencil you in after all.” _

_ “Well, thanks for that. Really. I’m glad I get to see you before I leave. Tomorrow’s the big day!” _

_ “Yeah, uh, listen, man. About that…” _

_ “Oh, what, you mad I’m getting out before you?” _

_ “No, not exactly… Just…” _

_ “Wow, Richie the Jabberjaw, at a loss for words. That’s a first. Hey… woah, you okay, man? You’re freaking me out.” _

\-----

There it was again. The _ clink _of the glass being set in front of him startled Richie away from his thoughts. 

“That’ll be $11.”

“For a _ beer _?”

“Uh, in New York City?” The answer was in the question. Richie scowled as he took a crumpled twenty dollar bill from his wallet and tossed it on the counter. 

“Keep the change. Use it to get a razor, I passed a CVS on the way here. You can exorcise that thing from your face.” The bartender placed his hand to his lips in a self-conscious gesture before stuffing the bill in his apron and walking back towards the till. _ You’re an asshole, Rich. _

Turning his back to the man, Richie leaned against the counter, gulping down a mouthful of his drink. He winced as he was immediately hit with a sour tang so bitter he nearly gagged. _ Fucking New York City. _Scanning the room again, he noticed there were a few booths near the back of the bar, semi-secluded in the dimly lit corner. While the thought of drinking alone in a bar in the middle of the city while it's pouring rain felt a little too much like a Soundgarden album, the idea of separating himself even further from the people sounded like a decent use of his remaining time in this godforsaken city. 

As he weighed his options, his eyes fell upon a slim figure sitting in one of the unoccupied booths, barely visible in the dusky haze. The man’s gaze was fixated on his phone, his thumb furiously flicking through whatever content had his complete attention. There was a distinct familiarity in his body language and stature that caused a slight twitch of a smile to cross Richie’s face. As the man scrolled through his phone, there was a sudden increase in the brightness radiating from the screen, illuminating his face. _ Holy fuck. _

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

The recognition hit with such intensity, he momentarily felt as though the floor had given way underneath his feet. _ Of all the fucking gin joints in all the fucking towns in all the fucking world… _ The sudden weight in his chest caused Richie to lean heavily against the bar. A flood of thoughts, memories, goddamn _ yearning _washed over him. 

“Eddie…”

\-----

_ “Eddie. Look at me.” _

_ “Rich, c’mon, I’m way, WAY too drunk for this right now. Can we just… Bill said-” _

_ “Fuck what Bill said. Eddie, you don’t have to go.” _

_ “What the hell are you talking about? Of course I do.” _

_ “What the fuck does New York have that LA doesn’t?” _

_ \----- _

Richie’s hand trembled slightly as he brought the beer to his lips, careful not to even risk blinking out of fear it would erase the sight in front of him. He couldn’t recall a single joke or anecdote he’d shared on stage tonight, but _ that _night. That night, he remembered everything. 

\-----

_ “Yeah, well what does LA have, huh?” _

_ “Me.” _

  


The tone in Eddie’s voice had been unmistakable, and not just in level of intoxication. He didn’t get it. He didn’t understand what he was trying to say. Richie talked, talked _ all _the time. Why couldn’t he find the words now, when he needed to the most? Richie gulped down another mouthful of his drink, not even noticing the foul taste any longer. He remembered looking into Eddie’s eyes, those stupid, doleful eyes of his, reddened by the alcohol he’d consumed, which was more than Richie had ever seen him attempt in the past. Subconsciously he felt Eddie was simply trying to keep up with him at that point. Was it his way of going out with a bang? Or was there a part of himself he was trying to drown before leaving, probably for good? 

Seeing that a curiously green hue had begun to color Eddie’s face, Richie ushered him outside for fresh air, adding that if he was going to hurl, _ “ _the plants by the back door looked like they could use watering”.The muffled music coming from the house as they stood on the porch reminded Richie why they were there in the first place. Mike, never being one to ignore any of their accomplishments, cooked up a going away bash for Eddie, insisting they needed to celebrate him being the first one to “break away.” Richie used every excuse in the book to avoid saying goodbye, but Mike was having none of it. As he leaned against the railing, he tried his best to breathe in the crisp night air, combating the tight feeling in his chest.

_ “You do know this is _ your _ party, right, loser?” _

_ “Hey, if _ I’m _ a loser, what does that make you?” _

Eddie shuffled closer, the tips of his sneakers awkwardly nudging against Richie’s boots.

_ “You know you’re always going to be my best friend, Richie. Bill, Mike, Bev. You know I love them. But you’re my _ guy _ , Rich. You always have been.” _

He’d slung his arms over Richie’s shoulders at that sentiment, sloshing a bit of vodka soda down Richie’s back as he did so. Being a few inches shorter, Richie could feel that Eddie was standing on the tips of his toes to reach up to him. Slowly, Richie returned the embrace, carefully hugging his arms around Eddie’s waist. Eddie was such a fucking stringbean Richie was able to gasp his own elbows in either hand as he did so. He didn’t know how long they’d stood there holding each other, with Eddie swaying slightly in an attempt to keep his balance. They’d hugged before, plenty of times. But this time, knowing what was at stake, Richie had a sinking feeling it could be the last. 

\-----

“Get you another?”

Richie stared ahead, oblivious to the world still spinning around him.

“Yo, dude,” a voice behind him said again, louder this time, breaking him away from his recollection. “Can I get you another?”

Richie turned to see a female bartender leaning an elbow on the counter, awaiting a response with an eyebrow cocked. He hadn’t even noticed his glass had long since been emptied.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure. Thanks.” Handing the glass over, his gaze snapped back towards Eddie, still completely engrossed in whatever the hell he was looking at on his phone. _ With that level of concentration, it’s either an Asian gangbang porno or WebMD. _ Richie watched as Eddie’s eyes widened slightly, his mouth hanging slightly agape. _ Definitely WebMD. _

“Here you go, man,” the bartender remarked as she slid the glass over towards him.

“Let me guess,” Richie groaned as his moved to pull out his wallet. “Another $14?”

“Actually.” The woman smacked her gum with an amused look on her face. “This one’s paid for.” 

She tipped her head over her shoulder. At the end of the bar was a young woman, definitely fitting the bill of the establishment’s intended patronage, twisting her fingers around her shaggy blonde hair as she eyed Richie from her seat. The moment their eyes met, she offered a coy wink as she downed the shot in front of her. _ Shit _ . Swallowing an audible groan, Richie half-assedly smiled as he tipped the beer in her direction in a vague gesture of thanks. While he was never one to sneer at getting drunk on someone else’s dime, he had the feeling that it wasn’t going to end there. _ Just drink, let her take her blurry selfie with you, tell her you have mono or some shit, and she’ll leave you alone. _If only it were that easy.

\-----

Shifting his hand up Eddie’s back, Richie gently rested his hand on the back of his head, his fingers threading easily into Eddie’s hair. Eddie made a small grunting sound, pressing his forehead against Richie’s shoulder.

_ “Fuck. I’m sorry, Rich.” _

There was a tremor in Eddie’s voice, as if he were holding back a sudden wave of tears. Without hesitation, Richie tightened his grip around Eddie’s waist, his hand cupped around the back of his head. 

_ “It’s alright, Eds. I’m here, man. I’m here.” _

_ “Richie…” _

_ “I got you.” _

Eddie’s head tipped upwards, meeting Richie’s gaze as he did. Their grip remained on each other, Richie’s fingers lightly stroking Eddie’s neck. Eddie sniffed, his eyes bloodshot and heavy. Suddenly, he looked so fragile. Richie’s swallowed hard as he looked down at Eddie, wishing he could just absorb whatever pain he was feeling so badly it hurt. Slowly, ever so slowly, Richie lowered his head, gently touching his forehead to Eddie’s. He allowed his eyes to flutter closed, letting himself exist entirely in that moment, the only sound being Eddie’s slightly staggered breathing. 

\------

Richie took several large gulps of his drink, using the back of his sleeve to wipe his mouth. This is fucking ridiculous; he’d been his best friend for most of his life, and he’d hadn’t seen in--_ jesus _ . What had it been? Five, _ six _ years? No way had it been that long. Mentally counting back the years, Richie realized with a jolt it had been a staggering ten years. _ Ten fucking years. _ How the hell had they let it be that long? Inspecting him carefully, Richie couldn’t mask a smile as he realized _ Eddie still looks like Eddie _. He’d know him anywhere. So why the fuck were his feet cemented to the ground? Why was he standing here like an absolute twat?

\-------

_ “Richie..what if I can’t do this?” _

_ “Do what, Eds? Get the hell out of Derry?” _

_ “No… What if I can’t…” _

Taking Eddie’s face in his hands, Richie tipped his face up towards him.

“Listen to me, Eddie. You can do fucking anything, okay?”.

“No, not like that. What if I can’t do it without… I mean...fuck, Richie. Please don’t make me say it.” 

Richie could feel Eddie’s grip on his shoulders tighten as he shifted closer towards him, Eddie’s head lulling back down towards his chest. Richie’s mind raced as fast and as violently, a sudden rush of ice water coursing through his veins. _ Don’t fuck this up, Richie. Don’t you dare fuck this up. _ Eddie’s entire body seemed to shrink. He’d always had a slight frame, but standing in front of him now, Richie couldn’t help but notice how _ small _he seemed. 

_ “ _You know what I mean. Don’t you? You know, Richie.”

Eddie’s voice broken, diminutive, his shoulders slumped. Defeat; that’s what it conveyed. He’d accepted a defeat without even admitting he was fighting a battle. 

_ “ _ Richie…Please… _ ” _

Without any further hesitation, Richie closed the distance between them, his lips connecting with Eddie’s in a furious collision. The warmth of Eddie’s mouth was intoxicating, Richie’s tongue flicking over the unknown, yet somehow familiar, territory, the taste of vodka rich on his lips. Small moans escaped Eddie’s throat as his hands scrambled down the front of Richie’s body, his fingers raking across his chest. Stepping forward, Richie flattened Eddie’s back against the wall, his own body flush against the smaller frame. A fever burned under his skin as he could feel the heat, almost sweltering, of Eddie’s hardness pressed against Richie's thigh. The desire, _ hunger _, for his body was almost overpowering. Richie tangled his fingers in Eddie's hair, pulling him closer, wrapping himself around his lips, his tongue, his mouth. He was quickly out of breath, but he didn't dare break away, not even for a moment. 

Richie’s hand drifted down and encased Eddie's length, giving the swollen flesh a gentle squeeze, causing Eddie to let out a desperate moan against Richie's mouth. _ God, that sound. _ There was a lion under his skin, awakening with the intensity of the embrace, empowering and all-encompassing. His own erection strained against his jeans, painfully so, but Richie's only thoughts were of Eddie. He was the only thing that existed right now. Richie’s fingers, trembling and clumsy, made short work of the button clasp of Eddie's jeans, not even bothering to undo the zippered fly before plunging his hand into his boxers. Although he’d spent an embarrassing amount of lonely daydreams and even lonelier nights musing on how Eddie would feel against him, he let out a gasp as he felt the span of his shaft, longer and harder than he’d ever imagined. _ The fuck does he feed that thing? _

His hand began to pump as Eddie let out helpless, sharp breaths, whimpering quietly as he squirmed beneath Richie’s hand, his jeans slung low on his hips. 

“Jesus fuck, Eddie. Where have you been hiding this?”

“W-what? What’s wrong?”

Chuckling against Eddie’s mouth, Richie gently kissed the corner of his lips. 

“Not a fucking thing.”

Richie worked Eddie’s length in his hand, picking up speed as Eddie’s breath quickened, his fingers desperately gripping Richie’s shoulders. He noticed Eddie’s eyes clamped shut in fervent concentration, an expression Richie had seen many times. Though in this context, vastly different as well as, admittedly, profoundly gratifying. He could feel Eddie began to pulse in his grasp, his tip beginning to weep as he neared the edge.

“Richie, fuck, I’m--fuck!”

“Shh, it’s okay. Just relax. Relax and let me milk this fucking monster cock of yours.”

As if the last tether of sanity rested on Richie’s words, Eddie’s back arched deeply, as his length twitched and spasmed in Richie’s hand, spilling across his palm and wrist. Gasping, moaning, and writhing underneath him, Richie nuzzled his face against Eddie’s neck. He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of Eddie’s labored breaths, hearing how his heart was pounding in his chest, as Eddie began to soften in his hand. 

“Oh, oh my _ god _, Richie…” Eddie panted, beads of sweat dotted along his brow.

“It’s okay; you’re okay. Just breathe.”

Richie pressed his forehead against Eddie’s, not quite ready to relinquish his grip just yet. _ Did that just happen? Did that really just fucking happen? _ How long had he wanted this? The feeling of Eddie, delirious - _ blissful _even - with pleasure felt so deliciously satisfying, Richie struggled to stop the smile spreading across his face. He could stay like this forever. 

Then he remembered. 

Like a freight train careening off-track and barreling right into his chest, he remembered: _ This is his last night here. _

As if on cue to further send the euphoric moment into chaos, Richie jerked backwards as he heard the screen door to the porch swing open.

“Geez, there you guys are! I was about to send out a search.” 

Ben stopped dead in his tracks. Eddie was scrambling to button his jeans and Richie quickly wiped his hand down the front of his shirt, leaving quite the conspicuous trail on the dark fabric. Still struggling to catch his breath, Eddie slapped a hand to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut with a grimace. Richie couldn’t help but notice the greenish hue had returned to Eddie’s cheeks. 

“You, uh, you guys doin’ alright?” The waggish tone Ben adopted was not lost on Richie, who shot him his best silent “please fuck off” expression. 

“Yep, great. All good here. Thanks, buddy.”

“Actually… I, uh…”

Richie barely had time to step back before Eddie lurched forward, retching violently. Although it wasn’t entirely unexpected, Richie winced as the projectile vomit came out in almost _ Exorcist _-level proportions.

“Hang tight, Eds. I’ll grab some towels.” Richie began to head inside before Ben caught his arm.

“You, uh, _ might _want to zip up your jacket, Rich.” 

\-----

With the second drink downed, Richie took a deep breath as he set the glass down on the counter. _ You’re acting like a scared fucking kid, Richie. Grow a pair. Just go talk to him, you fucking pussy. _It wasn’t much as far as pep talks went, but it was enough to give him the guts to shuffle forward towards the booth. As he did, Eddie glanced up, and for a split second, there was a moment of puzzled bewilderment on his face. It only took a moment for his eyes to light up in recognition. Richie stepped forward, a flurry of sophomoric excitement welling in his chest. As Eddie stood, Richie felt the sudden damp breeze of the door swinging open as a group of people entered from the rain. 

“Hey, there he is!”

“Ed, you fuckin’ _ dog _, man! I can’t believe you finally did it!”

The sounds of boisterous cheers and claps drowned out the surrounding noise of the bar, reaching to near cacophonous levels almost immediately.

Richie froze. The look on Eddie’s face wasn’t for him. 

Eddie took several steps towards the group before they closed in on him, wrapped their arms around him. One of the taller men, near Richie’s height, actually lifted him off the ground, giving him a rough pat on the back. Richie blinked, swallowing hard as he tried to wrap his head around whatever the fucking fuck was going on. 

“Shit, dude, I’m so proud of you,” the tall man, with an idiotic chinstrap beard Richie noticed, set Eddie back down. “I can’t believe it.” Eddie shrugged as he slid back into his seat, his cheeks flushed and a playful grin on his stupid face. _ What the fuck..? _

As the group filed into the booth, Richie felt another rush of misty air as the door flung open again. A young woman stepped in, well dressed and petite with a slender figure, a head of wavy auburn locks, standing on her toes to see over the crowd. She looked lost and, frankly, out of place. After a moment, the deafening cheers rose up again. 

“There’s our girl! The woman of the hour!”

_ ‘Our.’ _ Eddie was practically beaming. Richie felt his world collapsing around him, brick by brick. 

The woman’s face eased into a wide and bright smile as she skipped towards the table, the guys standing up to greet her with the same energy they’d thrown at Eddie.

“C’mon, don’t be modest. Let us see it.”

Another group of people stepped into the bar, crowding around the counter and suddenly blocking Richie’s path. Awkwardly shuffling to the side, he had to maneuver himself to see past them; just as the woman extended her left hand with a jubilant grin. _ She really was fucking beautiful. _

“Shit, Ed! That must’ve cost what I make in a year!” one of the men exclaimed. Richie tried to gulp down the lump in his throat, but a wave of violent nausea rushed over him. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Eddie stood, wrapping his arm around the woman, and pulling her close. 

And into a deep, passionate kiss.

Half the group clapped, the other pounded the table with whooping cheers. They were all so... _ happy _ . Richie turned on his heels, leaning heavily on the bar top with his head swimming. He pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses as he tried to choke down the scream rising in his throat. _ What the fuck. _ Eddie was getting _ married _? There was another flood, deep in his core that felt as though a piece of him had been lopped off; amputated, if he was completely honest. 

When he finally opened his eyes, he blinked several times, realizing that a shot of whiskey had been placed in front of him. Richie looked up, expecting to see the blonde from before giving him the eye. But instead, he was greeted by a pair of dark brown eyes belonging to a young man, leaning his elbow on the bar beside him.

"You looked like you could use that," the man said in a coy tone. "I thought I'd try to cheer you up."

"Look, I appreciate it, but I just want to be alone right now." 

"I saw your show tonight." The man went on as if Richie hadn't even responded. "I thought comedians were supposed to be funny."

"Seriously, man, I'm not fucking-" Richie looked over to see the man smirking at him with a smug smile.

"Oh my _ god _ , I'm kidding. Don't be a fucking queen," the man, no, _ kid _ (he couldn't be older than 25) teased. He was handsome, stereotypically so, but lean and…bold.

"You look fucking miserable all by your lonesome." He took a step closer to him, the kid's knee barely resting against Richie's leg. "I bet I could get a smile out of you. Maybe even a, _ gasp _, laugh."

Richie stared at the kid. The strong jaw, wide eyes, slim, almost slight build. _ So fucking familiar. _

"So," he began, resting his hand on top of Richie's forearm. "What do you say?" 

He leaned forward, bringing his lips to Richie's ear. "You're not the only one with a trashmouth." 

Richie stared at the kid, his eyes burning with audacity and daring, before dancing over his shoulder. The woman was draped over Eddie, basically sitting in his lap, her legs slung over his own, peppering his cheek and neck with kisses. Eddie looked...happy. Fucking _ happy _ . All at once, he realized: _ that will never be me. _ It didn’t matter how many stolen moments, those clandestine touches, anything that happened between them. It would never be _ him. _

To his surprise (and dismay), Eddie glanced up casually, to look at the friend sitting across from him whose back was to Richie. His eyes looked...distant. As if an immediate distraction had hijacked his thoughts. Richie was paralyzed, every muscle in his body tensed, as he traced Eddie’s sightline. If it continued on its path, it would only be a matter of time before-

Eddie’s gaze fell upon Richie. All at once, his face fell, the light and happiness seeping out of his face, his shoulders dropping almost instantaneously. His mouth hung open is some twisted mix of shock and awe, an almost incomprehensible look of confusion and.. pain._ The look in his eyes. _ Richie could do nothing but return the stare, rooted where he stood. He felt separated from his body, the room, hell, the fucking _ world _, but he knew there was no escaping this. 

Eddie was the first to break eye contact, his face ashen and woeful, turning back towards the group. His eyes flickered just once back towards Richie, who could see the muscles in his jaw clenched tightly. Richie felt the kid’s grip on his arm tighten. He’d almost forgotten he was there.

Downing the shot with a wince, Richie stepped back, digging his hands into the pockets of his coat.

"Let's get the fuck out of here."


End file.
